Page 27

“Yes . . .”

“My brother’s friend.”

“Again, this I know. How did I propose?”

“I don’t remember.” A lie.

“How did we get together?” This was edging on dangerous territory.

“We were childhood sweethearts.” Her neck flushed. “Inseparable. We could tell each other anything, complete each other’s sentences. You were always there for me whenever I got into trouble, ” she said softly. Her eyes met mine and I couldn’t look away. It was like she’d pulled the veil down on an alternate reality, one that could have been . . .

“Indy—” I started, but she glanced at her watch and started flagging down our waiter.

“We have to go!”

I pulled out my wallet and she waved me off. “It’s on me. I am, after all, forcing you to do this.”

“You’re not forcing me. And I never let a woman pay,” I said as I slid the money into the server’s hand.

“How 1950s of you.”

“Hey, you’re a poor graduate student and I have a full-time job.” For now anyway.

We made our way across the square toward the Grand Canal, and I was struck by how this place suited Indy. Right now, in a long green wrap dress and high slouch boots, her long hair in a high bun, she looked like an impossibly chic local. She was gorgeous, and I couldn’t help staring. So much so that I nearly tripped over an old pigeon with a bum leg who was going to town on a discarded croissant.

“Dammit,” I grumbled as I danced out of the way and the bird flapped its wings furiously. Indy stared at me like she’d just realized she was with a monster.

“Diana, there you are. I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming,” cried an elegant older woman with a British accent who was waiting for us at the bridge. As we got closer, she raised her sunglasses onto her perfectly coiffed brown hair, an enormous grin spreading across her face, she looked me up and down and I was immediately glad I’d cleaned up and dressed the part in trousers and pressed shirt.

“And Levi! What a pleasure to finally meet you!” She threw her arms around me, and I was engulfed in silk, cashmere, and a spicy, rich-smelling perfume. After giving me two kisses on the cheek, she held me at arm’s length as she looked me up and down. “My goodness, Diana, your description of him did not do him justice! What a dashing young man.”

“Please, Mrs. Harris, you’ll make me blush.” I said, doing my part at playing the charming dandy, but Indy was the one with the flushed cheeks. I took the woman’s hand and brought it to my lips.

“An officer and a gentleman!” she cooed. “Oh, I am so delighted you agreed to come today and to share your dancing expertise with us. Shall we?” She gestured to a gleaming mahogany water taxi docked just below the bridge. We settled into plush leather seats, Mrs. Harris gesturing for the two of us to sit together on the bench across from her while she stared at us with a beatific smile.

As we glided across the water, Diana sat there ramrod straight like a gondola oar, her hands clasped in her lap. Despite having warned her against improvising earlier, I couldn’t help doing just that. I slid my hands over hers, and she tensed as I pried her fingers apart and wound my own through hers. Her hands were freezing.

She stared down at our entwined hands like they were alien appendages. And they did seem disembodied, like they didn’t belong to either of us. Mrs. Harris gave a little sigh of pleasure. “Oh, it is wonderful to see you two together. Diana has told me so much about you, dear Levi, that I feel I already know you.”

“Is that right?” I winked at Indy and she gave a tiny shake of her head. “What exactly has she told you?”

“Well, she told me that your mother is a dancer. Does she still teach?”

When my mom first passed away, it felt like I had bowling ball–sized hole behind my ribs, which prevented me from talking about her. Over the years, though, I’d found that talking about her filled that empty space with good memories. “No, she passed away when I was a kid.”

“Oh! I am sorry. How very gauche of me to have brought it up.” She reached over and patted my knee.

“That’s all right. Yes, she was a competitive ballroom dancer in Russia, but gave it up when she married my dad. She opened a dance school in our small Michigan town. I basically grew up there, she had a playpen for me in the corner. So, I guess you could say it’s in my blood.”

“She was Russian? That explains those striking blue eyes!” She smiled.

“My real name is Lev, but kids at school called me Levi.”

“Because his eyes are the color of blue jeans,” Diana added with a look that said there, you’re not the only one who can throw around useless anecdotes.

“Actually, it’s because I practically lived in a pair of Levi’s overalls. Never wanted to take them off.”

“Do you speak Russian?” asked Mrs. Harris.